


Poison

by Bunney



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-15
Updated: 2013-04-15
Packaged: 2017-12-08 13:16:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bunney/pseuds/Bunney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She said she would never come back, but Draco could always depend on his favorite customer...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poison

**Author's Note:**

> This story is inspired by a piece of Draco/Hermione art by LJ user midnight_ljc. I no longer have a working link for the artwork, but trust me, it was beautiful, dangerous, and erotic.

The house elf poked his head into the library, his bulbous eyes wide with apprehension. Shutting the door carefully behind him, he ventured forth, padding into the room on bare and silent feet. "Master Draco, sir..." he whispered, loath to interrupt his volatile master. 

Draco Malfoy looked up from the paperwork scattered across the huge desk. "What do you want?" he snapped, more out of habit than anger, looking down at the small creature peering over the edge of the desk. With a dismissive frown, he returned to his work, a long eagle feather quill clenched between his fingers as he continued perusing the parchments.

"She is returned, Master. She isn't taking no for an answer, Master," the elf whispered, trying not to stare wildly about the room, filled as it was with all manner of frightening and dangerous artifacts. He cringed, anticipating his master's certain rage.

For a moment, Draco stared at the cowering figure, then a slow smile curved his lips and brought a glint of malice to his crystal-pale eyes. "Is that so? And am I to assume you've left the lady standing on the doorstep in weather so foul?" he asked, knowing that the elf would have never allowed Hermione Granger back into Malfoy Manor, especially after the beating he had suffered the last time she'd darkened their door.

"Yes, Master! Uhhh, no, Master!" In indecisive despair, the elf fell silent, awaiting what was sure to be more punishment. To his surprise, Draco laughed softly and waved the elf away with an indolent flick of his hand.

"Go fetch her, Tibby, then you may retire for the night. I'm not to be disturbed until morning," Draco said, casually sweeping the parchments and ledgers off his desk and into a drawer. As Tibby scampered away, relief evident upon his face at being paroled so early in the evening, Draco opened another, hidden drawer beneath the desk and removed a flat box, running his fingers along the ornate inlay design on the lid. 

He knew she'd be back. They _always_ came back.

From the open doorway, Draco could hear the soft patter of Tibby's feet on the marble, followed by the staccato click of high heels. He bit back a grin, wondering what had persuaded Granger to dress up for the occasion. Picking up his wand, he dimmed the lights until only the orange glow of the fire in the hearth illuminated the room.

"Mistress Granger, Master," Tibby announced in a timid squeak.

"Thank you, Tibby, you may go. Remember what I said. We're _not_ to be disturbed," Draco said as he rose from his seat, inclining his head ever-so-slightly at the young woman sweeping into the room, the deep hood of her cloak still dusted with melting snowflakes. Tibby nodded swiftly, darting an anxious look at the witch standing stiffly in the middle of the room. With a floor-scraping bow, he backed out of the room and shut the door.

"You came back," Draco said simply, schooling his features into a bland, bored mask that barely disguised the triumphant gleam in his eyes. He strolled around the edge of the massive desk, gesturing imperiously at the cloaked witch. "Your cloak, Granger... you're dripping all over the Aubusson."

"Well, my most abject apologies, _Lord_ Malfoy!" Hermione Granger spat as she unclasped the cloak with trembling fingers clad in sleek, leather gloves. "Mustn't filthy up the priceless, heirloom carpets." 

Dragging the voluminous cloak off her shoulders, she flung it at Draco, who caught it in one hand, turning his head to one side to avoid a faceful of damp wool. He gave the hostile witch a smug grin.

"What's got your granny knickers in a twist, Granger?" he asked as he tossed the cloak carelessly over the back of one of the leather club chairs facing the desk, while Hermione perched on its mate, her legs crossed primly at the ankles. "Weasel pestering you for a shag twice a month now?"

Hermione's lips turned down at the corners, her cheeks blushing a delicate shade of pink. "Don't be so crude. You know why I'm here."

Draco's grin widened as he studied the flustered young woman. Along with her flushed appearance, she was shaky and breathless, a fine sheen of sweat dotting her hairline and frizzing the fine curls there. "I don't know, Granger. Why _are_ you here?"

She looked up at him with dismayed fury. "Don't play games with me, you bastard!" she shouted, her hands gripping the arms of the chair to keep from leaping to her feet. Draco rested his hips against the edge of the desk, using his height to intimidate her, to dare her to do what he knew she wanted to – pull her wand on him and hex him straight to hell.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Draco cocked his head to one side, shaking his long fringe out of his eyes. "But, Granger, you said, and I quote, 'You're a sick, pathetic parasite, Malfoy, and I don't need...' I. Don't. Need. '...your filthy potions.'" Catching his bottom lip between perfect, white teeth, he gave her a look of mock innocence. "Are we getting forgetful in our advanced age, Granger? Is that or is that not what you said, a mere two weeks ago?"

Now, her hands were clenched in her lap and tears of rage sparkled on her dark lashes. Draco drank in the exquisite sight of a desperate Hermione Granger. Anguish warred with need on her lovely face and he watched her with a hunger that was only partly physical. 

"Come on, Granger... tell me the truth. Tell me what you _really_ need," he coaxed. Dropping to one knee in front of her, he trailed his fingers along the hem of her dark grey tweed skirt and down the curve of her booted calf. "All you have to do is ask, Granger. Ask and ye shall receive all I have to give."

Undone by his silky words and sensual touch, Hermione broke. She drew in a shuddering gasp, pressing one hand to her breast as if in pain. "I can't take it anymore! Why have you _done_ this to me?" she cried, bending forward at the waist until she could press her brow to his shoulder, rolling her head to one side so that her breath huffed against his skin in moist gasps. "I need the potion, Draco, _please_. Please don't keep me waiting any longer... I feel like I'm going to crawl out of my _skin_!"

Draco wedged a finger beneath her chin and lifted her tear-stained face to his. He brushed a light kiss across her quivering pink lips. "Didn't I tell you that you shouldn't wait so long between sessions? That's why you feel as you do right now."

Hermione grasped his hand, pulling him towards her so quickly he had to catch himself against the chair arm as he went down on both knees. "It's like... like there's insects o-or _something_... I don't know... under my skin. I'm about to go mad, Malfoy! And I'm so jittery! Ron's going to suspect something!" she wailed.

Draco pulled his hand free and stood up, brushing his palm over her dark curls. "He's not going to suspect anything, Granger, but you have to realize... this isn't something you can just decide to quit. It could be... dangerous." Her eyes, so dark and shadowed they looked bruised, flickered with a moment's hesitation, but as another tremor shook her delicate figure, she reached up and clutched his hand in hers once more.

"I won't. Not anymore. I'll do whatever you say, Draco."

He had to physically restrain himself from laughing. How he'd longed to hear those very words from Hermione Granger's lips. Now, through a fortuitous alchemical failure in his attempts to create a more permanent version of the long-coveted Felix Felicis potion, Draco had created something that surpassed even his wildest aspirations. Something that brought witches and wizards, both friends and former foes, to his door, eager to experience the bliss of their most hidden, most shocking and secret dreams. The war had left too many of his former classmates shattered and grief-stricken and the potion he'd invented helped them forget the horror of Voldemort's brief regime and lose themselves in their myriad phantasms of better days or their own twisted fantasies. 

With the back of his hand, Draco caressed her cheek, then traced his fingertips over her lips. Hermione's desperation made her beautiful to him, her yearning a powerful aphrodisiac.

"Last time, we discussed payment... " he said, but she interrupted him by scrabbling anxiously in the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a small money pouch, bulging with Galleons. Draco smiled indulgently and stood up, walking back to the other side of the desk.

"I have money, Draco; I've brought nearly five hundred... " Hermione said, scooting to the edge of her seat and pushing the leather pouch onto the desk.

Draco shook his head slowly, baring his teeth in a feral grin. "Hermione, Hermione... I'm a very wealthy man. I don't deal in currency."

The high flush in her cheeks paled considerably and for a moment, her dark eyes flashed with rage, recalling the Hermione he'd known at Hogwarts. "But you said... "

Lazily, he picked up the wooden box, turning it over in his hands as Hermione watched every movement with the intensity an owl gave its rodent dinner. "That was then. My price has changed," he said.

He'd pushed her too far, he was sure of it. Hermione shot to her feet, wobbling awkwardly on her heels. She stood before him, hands fisting in her skirt, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, and it was on the tip of his tongue to call for the house elf to show her out when she reached up to the neck of her cardigan and proceeded to unbutton it.

"I _hate_ you," she whispered as a sliver of milky pale skin gleamed in the firelight. The tears she'd been holding back slipped down her cheeks. Another button, and another, and Draco felt a familiar burn, low in his stomach; a tightening in his groin that made the hair on his thighs prickle. He shifted slightly, to ease the growing, anticipatory ache between his legs.

Hermione walked around the edge of the desk, her fingers toying with the final few buttons. Draco leaned back his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. "Don't stop now, Granger. You've piqued my interest."

Her full lips thinned as she glared at him, but she unbuttoned the last two buttons and let the cardigan slip from her bare shoulders. Draco's eyes narrowed as his stomach clenched in a sudden and breathless wave of desire. In a startling counterpoint to the rather prissy tweed skirt and jumper, Hermione wore a tightly-laced corset of dark bronze velvet, the rich color warming her pale skin. Her breasts were pushed into small, perfect mounds of silky flesh, the barest hint of nipple peaking from the top.

Draco swallowed tightly, his gaze flickering over Hermione with a lazy disinterest that he certainly wasn't feeling. Oh, he was interested. He was very interested, indeed. "Nice, Granger. And here I had you pegged for the serviceable cotton brassiere type." He waggled his fingers at her skirt. "Let's see what else you're hiding from me."

Instead of removing her skirt, Hermione tugged it up, until the hem revealed the lacy top of her stockings and the garters supporting them. A few inches higher and Draco could see the dark tuft of curls between her thighs. 

"No knickers. _Very_ nice." Sweeping aside his elegant evening robes, he beckoned her closer. Hermione wavered uncertainly, but when Draco once more caressed the box, her gaze drifting to watch his fingers, she obeyed. Lowering herself to her knees, she looked up at him. "I want the potion first," she whispered.

"Suck my cock first, Granger, _then_ you can have it," he said with a sneer on his lips.

"Malfoy... please... " she tried again, even as she smoothed her hands up his inner thighs.

"Now, come on, Granger. You can't tell me you got all tarted up to just make a boring, old transaction. You came here tonight knowing you were going to let me fuck you, so let's get on with it."

Hermione's eyes flashed again with temper, but he could also see the helpless desire lurking just behind the humiliation. She was so transparent and he could practically read her like one of her precious books. Hermione Granger's dreary life – Ministry drudge, girlfriend to a man who couldn't remain faithful if his very life depended on it – had driven her to him and Draco knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his treatment of her excited her on a subconscious level. She wanted to release the stringent control she had on her life, whether she could admit it to herself or not, and Draco was more than willing to take the control she wanted to relinquish.

She deftly unfastened his fly and tugged his underpants down so that his erect cock swayed upwards. She wrapped her hand around it, encasing him firmly as she stroked him slowly, dreamily. Draco spread his legs to give her better access and lay his head back against the chair, watching her from slitted eyes. Licking her lips, she covered the glistening head, sliding her mouth down on him until she could take him no farther. Just as slowly, she drew up, flicking the tip of her tongue beneath the crown, sending delicious shivers of sensation up and down Draco's spine.

"Look at me, Hermione," he ordered and she raised her eyes to his, holding his gaze as she continued to lick and suck him. Her lips were stretched snugly around him, rosy against the darker red of his swollen cock. Without breaking eye contact, Hermione pulled her mouth off of him with a wet pop, licking her plumped lips. She brushed the slick tip across her lips, her tongue teasing the tiny opening. Then, with a sensuality Draco would've never imagined coming from Hermione Granger, she drew her tongue along the vein running the length of his cock until she reached his tightly-drawn testicles. First one, then the other, she mouthed them, rolling the delicate flesh over her tongue even as her hand continued to stroke his shaft.

Draco groaned, thrusting into Hermione's hand as she returned to lavish attention on his aching cock. She took him back into her mouth, sliding down on him until he bumped the back of her throat. He could feel the sharp convulsion of her gag reflex, but she worked him past it, swallowing around him. Draco shut his eyes tightly as his orgasm boiled up out of him, come spilling thickly into her mouth. He reached down to sink his fingers into her fluffy hair, tugging it loose from its bun as he held her in place, until he'd drained every drop. Only when Hermione's fingernails dug into his upper thighs did he let her go. 

She scooted back from him, wiping the back of her mouth with her hand. "God, you bastard," she finally spat. She was still heaving for breath, her hair tumbling wild over her bare shoulders. Draco wondered idly if she even had any idea just how beautiful she was. Hermione was wasted on Ron Weasley; a woman like her needed a man who was willing to play with her fire, not douse it with poverty and a dozen squalling brats who would do nothing but suck her dry.

"You give great head, Granger. You excel at everything you do, don't you?" Draco drawled, stretching lithely. "Come here, my little bookworm... you've earned this." 

Anger at his callous treatment forgotten, Hermione pushed herself to her feet, allowing Draco to pull her into his lap. She pressed her fingers against the nape of his neck, playing with the silky strands of platinum hair as he brushed another kiss against her swollen lips. "If you promise me you won't stay away so long next time, I'll let you have a little extra," he whispered into her mouth, dipping his tongue just inside the curve of her bottom lip, the faint bitterness of his own come still lingering there.

Hermione smiled, her first of the night, and settled herself atop his thighs. Draco reached around her and opened the box resting on the desk. Nestled inside the black interior were several tiny amber glass phials, corked and labeled in his own neat print. A miniature silver shotglass, barely larger than a thimble, lay to one side. As Draco removed the silver cup and one of the phials, Hermione looped one arm around his neck and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Thank you," she breathed against his skin, following her words with a lick. 

"You're welcome, Granger. You know you're my favorite customer," he said as he uncorked the phial and poured the viscous azure potion into the cup. It swirled and bubbled as it reacted with the silver, thin tendrils of steam rising from the surface. He shifted Hermione on his lap so that she was partially facing him. "Open your mouth."

Hermione obeyed as Draco tipped the contents of the cup onto her tongue, the thick fluid sliding over it and down her throat in a slowly-moving stream. "Careful... don't lick it. Let it just slide down your throat... that's my girl."

The potion's effects were almost instantaneous. Hermione slumped against Draco's chest, her head lolling back as her eyes went vague and dreamy. She was still aware of him, still aware of her surroundings but her inner consciousness was swept away in whatever dreams she harbored within. Draco smiled and pressed a kiss to the curve of her shoulder, one hand coming up to cup her breast. She moaned deep in her throat, the sound raspy and congested, a combined consequence of both the potion and the deep throating she'd given him.

Nudging her off his lap, Draco stood and pulled Hermione's unresisting body over to the hearth. She stumbled on the edge of the rug and he caught her against his chest, taking a moment to bury his face in the clean, wintry scent of her hair, still half-up and half-down in a tangled mass of curls. Hermione twined her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, her lips casting a hot trail over his jawline and finally, his mouth. With a dream-induced lack of inhibitions, she slanted her mouth over his, her tongue sliding between his lips to rub sensually over his. Draco cupped her arse in both hands, hauling her closer until she was plastered against his growing erection. He tugged at her skirt, shoving it up to her waist until the firm flesh of her buttocks filled his hands. 

"You have an amazing arse, Granger... I can't believe you keep this body hidden under all that wool and tweed. Should be a crime," he murmured against her lips as Hermione moaned fitfully, her hands fumbling awkwardly at his heavy robe, already becoming disoriented from the potion. 

"Draaaayco... " she groaned huskily as she slid down the length of his body to kneel on the floor at his feet. Draco joined her, pulling her pliant, responsive body back into his arms, exultant with the power he held over the high and mighty young witch. Tipping her backwards, he lay her onto the plush rug, looming over her as she gazed up at him with eyes so widely dilated they were like inky black pools. 

Hermione arched up off the floor as he smoothed his hand up one silk-clad thigh; she bent both legs at the knee to cradle his hips as he moved between them. The firelight danced over her chestnut curls as they spread across the carpet and gilded the smooth skin of her arms as she lifted them high above her head, grasping for purchase as Draco once more pushed his robes aside to bare his cock. 

Sensing his intent, through the haze of her potion-induced fantasies, Hermione looped one leg around his thigh, the heel of her boot digging into his calf, and strained upwards. Her mumbling was incoherent now, but her body spoke loud and clear. Draco reached up, tugging the top of her corset down until both breasts popped free, soft and plush, tipped with hard, dusky nipples. He palmed each in turn, pinching her nipples hard enough to bruise the tender flesh. She merely whined needfully in response. 

"You want it so bad, don't you, Granger?" Draco whispered as he spread her thighs apart, reaching between them to find her wet and slippery against his fingers. "Weasel doesn't give you a good seeing-to, does he?"

"Yes... ohhhh, yessss," she hissed as he pushed inside her, pulling her hips up sharply as he filled her in one, hard thrust. Hermione's eyes rolled back in her head as she once more arched her spine, until the only parts of her body that were touching the floor were her shoulders and the heels of her black leather boots. "Fuh-fuh-fuck! God, Draco... fuck me..."

"With pleasure," he ground out harshly as he pulled out of her, then slammed back inside with such force Hermione cried out in mingled pain and pleasure. Draco watched her through narrowed eyes as he fucked her, watched the changing expressions on her face as he thrust repeatedly into her slick, tight cunt. She really _was_ his favorite customer; she never failed to put up a fight, warring more with herself and her addiction than with him for providing the means to it, but her eventual capitulation was always sweet, always satisfying. 

One side benefit of the potion was increased sexual response and Hermione's reaction proved no different. She was bouncing eagerly beneath him, a willing participant in her own corruption. She clawed at his robes, seeking to reach his skin as she shoved it down his arms, before returning to his smooth, hairless chest. One sharp fingernail caught his nipple, drawing a bead of blood that dripped in a thin stream down his chest.. Draco leaned farther over her, his arms blocking the firelight from her face and casting them both into dimness.

"How the mighty fall, eh, Mudblood?" he whispered, grinding the root of his cock against her clit, grinning nastily as she wailed in helpless bliss. "N-never gonna let you go now... I own y-you n-now..."

For only a moment, her unfocused, drugged gaze cleared and she looked up at him in horror of her own, licentious behavior, but yet another wave of pleasure took her and she shattered around him. Draco rode out her orgasm, letting the rhythmic pulsing of her cunt around him draw out his own climax. It was less explosive this time, so soon after his last, but he rutted uncontrollably atop her until he was left with nothing but trembling limbs and an indefinable emptiness in the pit of his stomach. _That_ he ignored as he rolled off of a still-gasping Hermione, to lay on his back. 

The post-coital languor and the warmth of the fire were beginning to lull Draco to sleep when a muffled sniff drew his attention back to the disheveled, well-fucked witch at his side. He frowned at the dampness glistening on Hermione's cheeks. "You wanted it, Granger, so don't play the wounded virgin again. I'm really getting sick of it." he said bluntly, draping his arm over his eyes and faking a yawn.

She didn't answer as she climbed stiffly to her feet, pulling her corset back into place and gathering the rest of her scattered clothing. "I hate you. I really, really do," she whispered, her voice still hazy and distant. She quickly dressed and all but ran from the room.

Draco smiled sleepily as the door to the library slammed shut behind her. "You'll be back... you always come back."

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to Livejournal December 2005.


End file.
